


For The Love Of Camelot

by proud_librarian, SherlockedGinger



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Adventure, M/M, Magic Revealed, Romance, Smutty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-15
Updated: 2013-02-08
Packaged: 2017-11-25 16:05:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 15,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/640610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proud_librarian/pseuds/proud_librarian, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockedGinger/pseuds/SherlockedGinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin is captured by Morgana during a journey with Arthur. Arthur manages to rescue him, but it turns out that was the easy part. Now he's battling lustful urges and rampant jealously with anything that involves Merlin. Where is it stemming from and is Morgana really at fault for all of it? Written as an RP with the lovely Kathson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**_ Arthur _ **

Arthur pulls his crimson cloak tighter around his shoulder with one hand as the other held onto his horse's reins. Another sharp gust of wind cuts through the bare trees and washed a chill over him. His breaths come out in small, white puffs.

But his mind isn't on the cold. Any action taken to prevent it from effecting him is subconscious, instinctual. His thoughts are occupied elsewhere, with more important matters.

Six days ago he, his knights and Merlin set out on a journey to a neighbouring kingdom for negotiations over land. They never made it that far. They were attacked on the third day. Although there were no casualties on his side, a part of his group was cut off from the rest.

He's been looking for two days, and would look for as long as it took to find them. Never mind the negotiations. He is worried for his men.

Well that's not entirely true. Gwaine, Lancelot and Percival will get on fine in the woods on their own. They have a supply horse with them and would undoubtedly head for Camelot.

But Merlin is also with them and he is the one who worried Arthur. Idiot can hardly manage his chores, how's he supposed to survive in the woods on his own?

He knows the others will watch after Merlin, but he has a penchant for trouble and it'd be just like him to wander off and get separated from the others.

He notices a flicker of movement in the barren wood-line and draws a sharp breath. But it's nothing more than a bird, fluttering about in the ground.

Sir Illian comes up beside him, matching the pace of his horse to Arthur's and says "My lord, the others and I have been thinking..." he trails of hesitantly, unsure if he should continue.

He doesn't need to though, Arthur knows what he's going to say because it's the same thing Arthur's been telling himself. _"We should get on to Aurora's Kingdom and do the negotiations. They'll just return to Camelot. There's no need for concern."_

But what if it's not that simple? _"Morgana's still out there. She could discover them, take the captive. Or the Druids perhaps. What if one of them fell ill? What if Merlin was injured in the battle?"_ He halts his thoughts abruptly, refusing to allow his mind to travel those paths.

"We continue the search." he says, raising his voice so it carries through the entire company. " I will not leave for of my men to fend for themselves. One of you will ride ahead and carry a message to Aurora and explain the situation. When we find them I shall continue on a complete the negotiations."

There is a collective murmur of agreement and Sir Pelanour offers to ride on as the messenger. Arthur sends him off with a nod and they continue riding.

Later, as the sun is setting and they're beginning to look for a place to set up camp Arthur's ears catch a sound on the wind. He halts everyone with a raise of his hand and strains his ears to listen. It's definitely human, but whether they're laughing, screaming, crying or simply shouting he can't discern.

He reins his horse around towards the direction of the sound and spurs him into a gallop.

**__**

**_

Merlin

_**

**__ **

His head is throbbing. 

That, and his back is aching, thanks to the very, very hard surface underneath him.

Merlin groans - or actually, he _tries_ to groan, but there's something in his mouth that blocks about any sound he would make - and tries to open his eyes, but for some reason, prying open his eyelids turns out to be a lot more difficult than he expected. He manages to open his eyes after what feels like hours and even with his eyes open, the whole situation doesn't make sense.

For one, all he can see from his current position are the stars. This would be perfectly fine in most cases, by example, if he were travelling for such a long time that he would have to spend a night in the open air or if he were looking out of his window at night. However, these stars are _moving_ and Merlin is quite sure that although he's seen quite a lot of starry skies, they never actually moved.

Then there's the unusual heaviness of his body. Merlin knows he isn't particulary strong, but he has never had any problems lifting his arms or moving his head, certainly not in the way he experiences right now. He frowns, trying to remember what he'd been doing before; maybe that would shed some light on his current situation.

They had been travelling, he recalls. Arthur had gathered his most trusted knights - and, of course, Merlin - for a long journey, visiting foreign countries and negotiating for truces and such. It would have been a long journey, Merlin remembered, which was why they had packed a vast amount of supplies before heading towards Aurora, their first destination.

The young warlock tries to think hard, which proves to be slightly difficult as his head is still giving him a hard time. They'd been attacked, he recalls. Now he regrets not paying more attention to Gaius' books on mythical creatures - because, even though he'd never seen those creatures before, he'd known they were mythical the moment he'd laid his eyes upon them. They had been very vicious and fast-moving, all teeth and claws and long, bendable legs as they had circled their group, isolating Merlin and a couple of knights from the rest. By the time the knights had managed to kill the creatures, Arthur and the others were nowhere to be seen. Merlin had almost panicked right there and then - the kingdom was packed with enemies, who wouldn't hesitate to kill Arthur and he wasn't with him. Lancelot had calmed him down, though, and they'd agreed to return to Camelot as soon as possible, to form a plan.

That's when Merlin's memories start to get foggy.

All he remembered was a sudden, sharp sting in his neck and the world had started to blur. He'd heard Gwaine shout something, but the words sounded funny and blurred and suddenly the ground had been very, very close and the next thing he knows, he's on his back on something hard with a foul taste in his mouth and the stars are moving above him.

Suddenly, whatever he's laying on jerks up and Merlin realizes that he's in a wagon - which would explain the moving stars and the aching in his back. 

He's laying in a wagon, tied up, gagged and completely on his own. 

_Arthur_ , he thinks and he tries to move, but whatever they used to knock him out hasn't worn off completely and he has to give up, panting and groaning and thoughts swirling through his head at top speed. He has to escape, that's for sure. Whoever has caught him probably has a plan and whatever it is, Merlin does _not_ want to be part of it.

Let's work on his bonds first, he decides and he starts to call on his powers. There's a faint tingling in his fingertips, but other than that, nothing happens. Merlin frowns and tries again, with the same result. He tries over and over again, feeling panic rise within him with every failed attempt, until he's sure he's going to burst. He can't use his magic!

Then, the wagon stops. There's the sound of someone jumping off of the charriage and walking off and then Merlin hears murmers and whispers and he tries again, in vain, to free himself, when he hears the footsteps approaching again. A shadow falls over his face and he forces himself to look up at his captor.

From beneath the hood of her deep blue cape, Morgane smiles down on him. "Hello, Merlin."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur finds Merlin.

**_ Arthur _ **

Their horses weave quickly through the trees, towards the source of the sound. It's becoming more distinct now, voice, gruff, masculine and the sound of cart wheels grinding against the earth. Arthur horse crests a hill and he halt it, signalling for his other knights to do the same.

He nods towards the small group of wagons, who appear to be nothing more than traveling merchants. Arthur grips his reins tightly and swears under his breath. There's nothing to track now. The prints they'd seen nearly two days ago must've been from this caravan and not their attackers as he'd hoped.

The knight sat patiently, waiting for his command as the caravan weaved on ahead of them. Finally he spoke " We need to catch up to that caravan. I want to speak with them and see if they might've seen or heard anything about Lancelot,Gwaine and Percival." he says, and although Merlin's name remains unspoken ever knight in the company knows he is just as worried for him as he is the others. Perhaps more.

But they hold their tongues, share knowing looks, then spur their horses forward and down the hill. It takes little over half an hour for them to reach them and Arthur calls loudly "Merchants! I beg you halt! I search for friends and wish to speak with you!"

The caravan rolls to a halt and a large,gruff looking man dismounts from the head carriage. Arthur dismounts as well, but signals for his knight to remain steady.

"Arthur Pendragon." the gruff man states and Arthur sense a hidden sneer within his tone.

"I am. May I ask your name, good man?" Arthur replies and the merchant gives a sharp bark of laughter.

"Good sir? I don't think so. But yes, I am Aiden and this is my caravan that you've delayed." he responds

Arthur tries for a polite smile and says "I won't keep you long then. But I've lost a few of my knights in the forest, and a servant boy accompanying them. The knight wear the red cloaks of Camelot. One is dark haired,one dark skinned and the third tall and blonde. The servant boy is of a slight build, has black hair and blue eyes. He wears a red shirt and purple scarf. Do their descriptions prick any memory?" he inquires.

The detail with which Arthur describes Merlin a opposed to the others doesn't go unnoticed and Aiden thinks to himself  _"Morgana does know what she's doing then._

He pauses, as if in thought before answering 'I believe I may've seen the boy, yesterday. We passed through a small village, Bornberry, several leagues back. There was a boy who fits that description purchasing supplies. Perhaps he's with the others and they're in search of you m'lord." he lies easily, with a smile.

Arthur nods, and departs with a thanks. As they're reining their horses around Arthur murmurs to Sir Illian "Ever hear of Bornberry?" Sir Illian shakes his head and Arthur lets out a grim sigh. "Neither have I"

They slow their horses as they confer "What shall we do m'lord?" Sir Illian inquires, resisting the urge to cast a suspicious glance over his shoulder back at the caravan.

"I'm not sure." Arthur admits. "He may know nothing, many people lie to royalty with no motivation other than disrespect." Arthur explains, but his tone suggest that he doubts that is the case here.

"Do you think they have the others?" Sir Illian asks and Arthur resists the urge to hurl something in frustration.

"I don't know! Maybe, but there's not way to be certain. I can't attack without knowing for certain." He says, then pauses, churning ideas in his mind.

And then he hears a sharp cry from the caravan, a cry he'd recognize anywhere.

**_ Merlin _ **

Merlin knows that when one is tied up in a caravan with an enemy is not the best time to panic, but when Morgana draws an ornate dagger from her sleeve and smiles at him with a wicked glint in her eyes, he, well... panics. He starts trashing violently, murmering into his gag as Morgana inches closer to him. "Now, Merlin, don't be afraid. It's nothing personal, really. I just want Arthur to suffer like I did."

This makes Merlin pause, which draws a chuckle from the witch. "Now, don't you pretend you didn't notice, little Merlin. I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he treats you. I _know_  what you mean to him. Killing you will devastate him, mark my words. And when Arthur is devastated, he is weak. That is when we will strike. We will destroy Camelot, Merlin, and Arthur will not care, he will not do anything to stop us. And I will seek him out. I will seek him out and tell him, tell him how I killed you, how I made you scream and cry and  _beg_ , until he cannot handle it any longer. And that," she finished her monologue, grinning at the look of absolute terror on Merlin's face, "is when I will slit his pretty little throat, Merlin. And as he lays bleeding at my feet, I will take my rightful place as Queen of Camelot."

She approaches him again, grabbing him by the shoulder and trying to keep him still, but Merlin has found his strenght back and does whatever he can to break free. Morgana huffs before straddling him, pinning him down with her strong thighs. "Don't you fret, Merlin, it won't hurt for long. One nice, clean cut and you'll just fall asleep. Easy, Merlin, easy..." She raises her dagger and Merlin can only stare at the clean, glistering blade as it raises higher and higher...

And then Morgana pauses, turning her head. Merlin has heard it too; there are horses approaching. Riders, knights? Maybe it's Arthur! Hope leaps up in Merlin's heart and he starts to struggle again, but Morgana growls and pushes him down again. The warlock tries to make a sound, but Morgana quickly presses her dagger against his throat before bending down and whispering into his ear "One sound, Merlin, and I will slit your throat."

So Merlin stays still, straining his ears to try and listen, trying to hear whatever is going on out there. At first, he cannot understand what is being said, but then he hears a familiar voice,  _that familiar voice_  that he just needs to hear right now and his heart leaps. Arthur is here!

But Arthur doesn't know that Merlin is here and Merlin cannot do anything, not with Morgana pressing him down and keeping him absolutely still. He hears the other man - one of Morgana's minions, probably - gives Arthur false directions and then, he hears the tell-tale sounds or Arthur mounting his horse and he feels dread pooling into his stomach. Arthur is leaving, following fake clues while Merlin is right here, inches away from being murdered and there's nothing the warlock can do!

Unless... he looks at Morgana, who has risen up a bit and has taken her dagger away from his throat. She seems hesistant about Arthur being gone and pays Merlin no attention.

Merlin carefully tries to open his mouth a bit, which turns out to be quite hard - the gag is tied very tightly - and he struggles for a bit until he is satisfied. Morgana is still listening, her head cocked slightly, and Merlin pokes out his tongue, grimacing at the foul taste of the gag. No time for that, though. He maneuvers a bit, poking and shifting the gag with his tongue, and after a couple of moments, he manages to get it to move.

Just then, Morgana relaxes and turns back to Merlin. "Now, where were w-" She halts, just as Merlin manages to tear off his gag and raises her dagger, but the warlock has anticipated this and he calls forth his power, giving it all he has. Morgana is knocked off of him, the dagger is sent flying out of the carriage, and Merlin takes a deep breath and screams on top of his lungs "ARTHUR!"

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur rescues Merlin and insists they return to Camelot.

**Arthur**

"ARTHUR!" the shout issues from the fifth wagon in the caravan and Arthur recognizes it instantly. "MERLIN!" he shouts back, thoughtlessly, instinctively, then all hell breaks loose.

The knight charge without command and the "merchant" retaliate viciously. Swords fly through the air and axes swing. Arthur dismounts quickly and weaves his way through the fight, scrambling to get to the carriage where Merlin's cry came from.

A woman, dark-skinned, dressed in an emerald cloak intercepts him, with a broadsword. Arthur raises his own to know her aside, incorrectly assuming that she'd be an easy defeat. It proved to be untrue. She blocked his swing easily and the next, and the next. The cries of frustration and pain from the other knights show that he isn't the only one with a formidable enemy.

He ducks below her blade and catches her leg, creating a deep gash. She lets out a high-pitched cry that seems inhuman and retaliates by grazing his his shoulder with her own blade. It draws blood, but isn't crippling. She's too injured to finish the job and collapses upon her useless leg, while Arthur runs free.

A sudden rallying cry distracts Arthur's attention. He whirls about to face the source of the noise, coming from the open field behind them and see's three galloping horses with crimson cloaks headed at full speed for the battle. He's found his other knights.

He allows himself a brief smile before returning to his task and darting towards the wagon.

He reaches the carriage door with no further delay and screams as he's prying the door open "Merlin! Merlin are you in there?!" the raw edge of desperation to Arthur's voice does not go unnoticed and despite his dire situation Merlin finds himself smiling at it.

"Yeah, I'm in here! Be careful, Morgana's with me!" He shouts back, the wood does nothing to muffle the blatant relief in his voice.

 _"Morgana?!_  Are you alright? Arthur calls, still struggling with the heavy door.

"Yeah, I'm fine! She's unconscious." Merlin shouts back, casting a cautious glance in Morgana's direction, fervently hoping she doesn't wake.

The door finally opens and Arthur can't contain a broad grin when he glimpses Merlin through the dim light that floods into the wagons' interior. "Merlin." he states simply, though his tone is heavy with relief.

_ **Merlin** _

Merlin lets out a sigh of relief at the sight of Arthur standing in the doorway of the wagon, silhouetted against the light of the rising sun. The young king has his sword still in his hand and he's panting, but he's also grinning like a loon and there's a clear look of relief in his eyes. "Good God, Merlin, what did you get yourself into  _this time_?"

Merlin snorts. "If you'd be so kind to unbind me, sire, I'll tell you all about it."

Arthur is very quick to kneel next to Merlin and starts to untangle the thick ropes that bind his hands to his back. It isn't until he's working on the ones around Merlin's ankles when suddenly, Merlin catches a quick movement behind Arthur and he yelps.

Arthur jumps up, throwing a punch before even turning around and Morgana, who was right behind him, her dagger back in her hand, is sent sprawling onto the wet forrest ground. Arthur jumps out of the wagon as well, going after her, and Merlin quickly rids himself of his bonds before following him. He catches just a glimpse of Morgana, who throws him one last filthy look before muttering something and dissapearing into thin air.

Arthur swears loudly before turning to his knights. "Did anyone else get away?" When the knights shake their heads, Arthur nods and continues "Inspect the wagons. Take whatever we can use and then get ready to go back to Camelot."

"Sire..." Sir Illian starts, but Arthur gives him a look and the knight quiets down, giving a curt nod before turning around and stalking away. Arthur turns back to Merlin, who stares at him in confusion.

"Arthur..." he starts, but the king interupts him.

"We're going back to Camelot right away. Those negotiations will have to wait."

"But, Sire..."

"NO!" Arthur grabs Merlin by the shoulders and shakes him. "I don't care about what you have to say, Merlin. I'm taking you back to Camelot and then, I'll arrange for another audience with our neighboring kings."

"Arthur, that's ridiculous!" Merlin protests, "This is important! It took you months to get them to agree on meeting you; you can't just all throw that away and certainly not for-"

Arthur cuffs him on the head, but lightly, and it makes Merlin fall silent. Arthur is standing very close now, his hands still on Merlin's shoulders. When he speaks again, it's in a very low voice and Merlin has to bend a bit closer to hear him.

"You are a lot more important to me than those damn treaties, Merlin. I will take you back and make sure you're safe and alright before I do anything else."

And with that, Arthur lets go of him and turns around to mount his horse.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur begins to realize that something isn't quite right with his mind.

****

Arthur

Arthur knows it's complete foolishness. He's had enough of a battle already, getting people to accept him as king after the death of his father. But this will surely seal his fate as a failure. Que the uprisings and mutinies.

He snorts in wry humor at the thought. What really bothers him isn't that he's abandoning the journey. What bothers him is  _why._

He told the knights he wanted to return to Camelot so they could recoup. Appearing in Aurora's kingdom looking war-weary wouldn't send the right message. Morgana may know of their plans for negotiation as well and may seek to stop or destroy them. He refused to risk it.

The knights accepted this argument, and it wasn't an entirely false one. They were good points and ones that Arthur was concerned about.

But if he was completely honest with himself, as he rarely was, he was doing this all for Merlin's sake. A lanky, incompetent servant boy with an offbeat sense of humour and ridiculous smile.  _Why?_

It's not as if he's actually injured, though Arthur wishes he was. That would at least make the whole thing easier to explain, to himself and others. But Merlin seems to be in perfectly good health.

He laughs with the other knights, tends to the horses, assists with preparing meals and teases Arthur as usual. So why does he feel this desperate urge to rush Merlin into Camelot's safe walls, to protect him. From  _everything._  From  _everyone._

A shout jolts him from his musings and he glances over his shoulder. It turns out to be nothing more than Gwaine letting out a rowdy laugh as Sir Percival's horse stubbornly refuses to move, distracted by a patch of grass.

Merlin is pulling up alongside Gwaine's horse and watching Sir Percival's struggles with a muffled laugh of his own. Arthur finds himself smiling, not at Sir Percival, but in return to Merlin's bright grin.

He's turning back towards the front when he catches Gwaine slap Merlin on the back as the share jokes about Sir Percival and his stubborn mount.

A sharp, sudden anger erupts and Arthur finds himself snapping before he can control himself

"Be gentle with Merlin, Gwaine! He's been held hostage for the past three days. Slapping him around isn't the brightest idea!"

The knights don't exactly freeze at Arthur's tone ,as their horses are oblivious to the exchange and continue plodding along, but there is a sudden shift into cold tension as the words leave his mouth.

Gwaine slowly removes his hand from Merlin's shoulder and he falls back in line with the other knights. Merlin casts him a curious glance but remain silent.

"We're wasting daylight. Percival, just yank up on his reins, it won't hurt him. Don't you know how to ride?" Arthur commands roughly, digging his heels into his horse's flank to speed him up.

" _What in the god's names had that been about?"_  Arthur wonders to himself in bewilderment as the words replay in his mind. The knights were always rough and friendly with Merlin. The words, the dark thoughts surely weren't his own.

Gwaine and Merlin had always been close and with good reason.. Arthur was often thankful for it. Having his servant accepted by the knight made things easier and Merlin, though an idiot, was more levelheaded than Gwaine. Together they were a dependable team, that Arthur could fully rely on. It's never bothered him in the least.

But now this cool rage icing over him like a sharp wind, simply be witnessing a slight affectionate interaction between them? This wasn't like him at all. Could Morgana have something to do with it? Witchcraft and sorcery were always responsible for this sort of devilry. His father fell in love with a troll because of it. Surely that must be the cause of his ailment. He needs to speak with Gaius.

**Merlin**

Merlin stares at Arthur's back as the young king brings his horse into a gallop, clearly in a hurry to get back to Camelot. Morgana's words have been playing in the back of his mind over and over again since Arthur ordered them all to turn back _. 'I've seen the way he looks at you, the way he treats you. I know what you mean to him._ '

Merlin knows Arthur is fond of him - they clearly share a relationship that is more than just 'king and servant' - but he has never thought about it as anything else than friendship. Just _how fond_  of him is Arthur exactly?

Still musing, the young warlock stays close to his king as they make their way through the forest, the knights right behind him. From this angle, he has a nice view of Arthur's strong back and shoulders, hidden beneath his red tunic, the heavy plates of armor and his cloak. They form no real barrier though.

Merlin has helped Arthur get dressed many times before and has seen him wrestle and practice hand-to-hand combat more than once. He knows how toned Arthur's upper body is, how his muscles ripple whenever he moves and how his skin has this beautiful, golden glow to it just after his training, when he's sweaty and tired and comes to Merlin for a hot bath and the young warlock tries very hard not to watch-

Merlin draws in a sharp breath and looks away from Arthur. He will not go over this again! Stupid dreams, stupid brain, just stop it! Arthur may like him, but in the end, Merlin will always be just a servant, maybe a friend, but that's it. And that's all Merlin wants from Arthur, he decides.

He tries to focus on something else, like the path or the trees, but his eyes find Arthur again and suddenly, he finds himself wondering what the king's golden hair would feel like under his fingers, what his blue eyes would look like when they came to lay on Merlin, what his lips would taste like...

Arthur suddenly stops and Merlin can barely bring his own horse to a halt and avoid slamming into the king. Arthur doesn't seem to notice, though. He turns around and looks at Merlin and the knights, who have stopped as well.

"It's getting too dark," he says, "we won't be able to travel much further. Let's go on for just a bit longer and try to find a place to camp for the night." He pauses, his eyes gazing at Merlin; before he turns again and spurs his horse on to go further.

They can only go on for a couple more minutes; by that time they find a spot Arthur deems fit for camping, Merlin can barely see his king's steed in front of him, even though it's as white as snow. The knights dismount and set up a camp at Arthur's command, while Merlin goes to make a fire.

He tries to get some dry pieces of wood, moss and grass afire, vaguely aware of Arthur's eyes in his back. When he drops his flint for the third time, the king sighs and walks over, kneeling next to him.

"Let me," he says, already taking the flint from Merlin's - suddenly shaking - hands and for a tiny moment, Arthur's fingers brush Merlin's.

It's barely even a touch, but it's enough to set the warlock on fire, and he bites his lip as he watches Arthur getting the fire started, trying desperately not to think about those big hands around his, grabbing his hips or sliding down his back towards his-

"Mer-lin." Merlin blinks and finds that Arthur is staring at him intensely, their faces only inches away from each other.

The king searches his face with his eyes, his face set with worry. "Are you sure you're alright, Merlin? You seem pretty out of it."

"Yeah, yeah," Merlin mumbles, moving to get up, but he somehow trips over his own feet, stumbling around until Arthur grabs his upper arm and balances him.

"You don't seem alright." Arthur pulls him closer and places one hand on Merlin's jaw, preventing him from looking away. Merlin gulps.

Up close, with the dancing flames of the fire illuminating them, Arthur's eyes seem almost indigo, dark and deep and drawing him in. The king's lips are slightly parted, revealing white teeth and the barest hint of a red tongue and Merlin fights the urge to lick his lips, to lean in and brush them against Arthur's.

Arthur huffs. "You're clearly not alright."

When Merlin's only response is a confused gaze, he nods. "That's it, you're not sleeping with the knights tonight, there's more than enough space in my tent for the two of us."

And with that said, he's off ordering the knights to make the arrangements.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out Arthur's idea of Merlin sharing a tent with him isn't the best one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I hope you're enjoying the story thus far. Just a bit of warning - this chapter and the next will have smutt!

**Arthur**

Arthur doesn't know what's come over him. Through the entire ride he had to squelch the urge to continually glance over his shoulder at Merlin.

Whenever he couldn't resist, passing it off as being cautious, he was met with Merlin bright, quirky smile and brilliant blue eyes. Which always made it harder not to turn his head simply to behold the sight again.

An even worse urge, which he literally had to bite his tongue, to keep from slipping out, was to order Merlin to ride ahead of him. This was a problem on multiple levels.

No one ever rides in front of the king. His position at the front of the party is one of authority. On occasion, when riding in dangerous territory, a trusted senior knight may ride ahead as a scout, of for extra protection, but certainly not an unarmed, skinny servant boy.

What bothers him even more is the reason why. He can attempt to brush it off as wanting to keep a physical eye on Merlin after his capture, but in a company full of knights it's nearly impossible for him to simply disappear.

No, his reasoning is far more carnal than that. He's watched Merlin ride a few times before, when they've gone out on their own together for various reasons and Arthur doesn't bother holding his front position. He's seen Merlin's slim, firm back pressed against his baggy tunic, the subtle muscles showing through. The way Merlin's hip roll with the horse's motion.

He'd never let his mind delve down those paths before, often it was easy to prevent. They usually came to him when his defenses were weak, after battle or a long, arduous day when he collapsed, fully dressed on his bed; while Merlin was god knows where, doing god knows what. They'd come to him unbidden, but he could brush them away as exhaustion.

Not now. He may be tired from their journey, but his mind is still clear. Yet his thoughts wander towards his memories.

Memories of Merlin, eye wide, smiling and panting after a hard gallop. They'd slow their horses to a slow walk and Merlin would give Arthur a broad grin. He'd be panting, his head tilting back in relief and elation, taunting Arthur with his pale, unmarked neck. Arthur's eyes would draw themselves to Merlin's waist, watching his hips movements. He'd seen it a dozen times.

But now it stirs a hunger in him. The urge drag Merlin from his horse and make him repeat the motions, slowly, firmly and atop Arthur is nearly too much. The thoughts keep coming and Arthur realizes he isn't even trying to stop it.

The thought of Merlin's hands, callous from work, nimble from training, spreading themselves across his chest, trailing down his sides, towards his hips, gently trailing over his hip bones and-  _No!_  Focus, Arthur.  _Focus._

"It's getting too dark," he declares suddenly, surprising himself, as he realizes how quickly dusk is settling. "We won't be able to travel much further. Let's go on for just a bit longer and try to find a place to camp for the night." He hoped that a bit of rest would rid him of these thoughts.

_~0o0o0o0~_

"Stupid, stupid, stupid." Arthur's muttering to himself. Per usual, he's referring to Merlin. Well, not Merlin himself but something involving Merlin.

 _"That's it, you're not sleeping with the knights tonight, there's more than enough space in my tent for the two of us."_  he quotes himself in an irate whisper as he paces the tent, while Merlin tends the horses.

How in the name of Cernunnos is he supposed to control himself? His mind clearly isn't his own, with these urges running rampant over him, and now Merlin will be lying inches from him.

"Idiot." he groans loudly as he rubs a tired hand over his face.

"Talking about me?" The source of his problems enters the tent with a grin, bearing his sleeping roll.

For a moment Arthur thinks about dismissing him, telling Merlin he was kidding. But he can't. His tongue literally won't follow his commands. And when he watches Merlin spread his roll across the floor he finds he doesn't really want to.

"Yes. Who else is enough of an idiot for me to grumble about it?" Arthur tosses back, but it lacks its usual bite. Even Merlin notices.

"You alright Arthur?" he inquires and Arthur waves it off with a careless hand.

"Just want some rest." he says and begins arranging his own sleeping roll. Arthur removes his boots and is beginning to climb into his roll when Merlin sniggers.

"Have you got something to say Merlin?" Arthur grumbles in exasperation, because he likes that laugh far too much.

"You planning on being attacked in your dreams Arthur?" Merlin questions with a grin.

Arthur's mind has to redefine the definition of attack from something pleasant to something dangerous before he understands Merlin's comment. He's still wearing his full suit of body armor.

"Just leave it." he mumbles, trying to lay back. It proves difficult and there are several moments of struggle between himself and the chinks of metal before he finally gives up and stands with a huff.

Merlin climbs quickly out of his roll to lend a hand. " I've got it!" Arthur snaps as Merlin lays a hand on his shoulder. "I'm the king of Camelot. I can take off my own armor on occasion!" At least he still has some control over himself.

Merlin steps back without a word, but his eyes hold questions as he lies down. Minutes later Arthur is free of his armor and he lies down as well.

He hopes he'll sleep without incident but those hopes are dashed when Merlin mutters in a gentle whisper "Night Arthur." followed by a soft sigh.

The whispered words shoot through him like a jolt and he turns resolutely away from Merlin without a word.

_ **Merlin** _

Merlin hears Arthur fall asleep quite quickly - really, the volume of his snoring could disturb a hibernating bear. The young warlock rolls onto his side, his back towards the king, and tries to fall asleep as well. However, sleep doesn't come to him as easily as usual, which is strange, considering everything that's happened in the past few hours.

He rolls onto his back and stares at the roof of the tent, listening to Arthur's snoring, turning and the little grunts he emits every once in a while. He always snores louder when he's on his back. _Arthur..._

Merlin turns his head, looking at the sleeping king lying next to him. When awake, Arthur never lets Merlin look at him - certainly not at his face - the way he can look at him right now. Up close, he clearly sees how worn Arthur is, as if he hasn't been sleeping for days. Merlin frowns at that thought. Why would Arthur exhaust himself like that?

The blond emits another sleepy groan, rolling onto his side. He's facing Merlin now, his gentle and relaxed face only inches away from the warlock's, his hair falling across his forehead in a way that never fails to make Merlin smile. Arthur looks young like this, like the little boy he must have been at some point and Merlin grins at the thought of a five year-old Arthur, wielding around a wooden sword and barking commands at his peers.

With that same smile still on his face, Merlin throws Arthur one last, fond look, before rolling onto his side and slowly closing his eyes. It doesn't take long before sleep engulfs him.

Merlin dreams. At first, he's very cold, it's dark around him and he's running, running as fast as he can, because if he were to slow down, if he stops only for a moment, whoever - or whatever - is chasing him will catch up and he can't let that happen, he just can't.

And like in all dreams like these, he suddenly trips, slamming face-first into the ground - something Arthur would have laughed at, he thinks. The darkness catches up with him immediately, engulfing him, holding him down and he fights, fights for his life. Something growls in his ear and grabs him tightly, pinning his arms to his side and Merlin tries to break out of its grip, without success. He whimpers as the creature's clutch tightens even more and it starts to groan, growling in his ear, oh God, it's growling his name! "Merrrr-lin."

Merlin awakens with a gasp, his eyes searching his surroundings frantically and his heart beating in his chest. He sees the roof and side of the tent, realizing that he's safe, he's with Arthur, camping in the woods and Arthur is currently purring in his ear, his arms wrapped tightly around Merlin's waist as he presses his hips against Merlin's backside.

_Well, fuck._

"S-sire?" Merlin squeaks - something he never does, honestly - but the king does not react. Instead, he nuzzles Merlin's hair, his breath ghosting against the warlock's neck as he pulls him even closer. "Merlin," he breathes in a throaty voice and Merlin finds a certain part of his anatomy suddenly getting very,  _very_  interested.

But he can't, he realizes, he can't do this. Arthur is sleeping - the calm pace of his breathing indicates that - and has no idea what he's doing. Merlin tries to break out of Arthur's embrace very, very slowly, but comes to a halt when the king whines - he actually whines - and thrusts his hips against Merlin.

Oh _. Oh._

"Merlin," Arthur groans, his hips rocking against Merlin's lower back and the warlock finds himself unable to pull away. Heck, he doesn't even want to pull away, not with Arthur pressed against him from shoulder to hip, his warm hands on Merlin's abdomen and his...

A soft gasp escapes from Merlin's mouth as he realizes that the king is definitely enjoying this at least as much as he his and he bites his lower lip, willing himself to stay silent as Arthur rubs against him, moaning and keening into his ear.

It doesn't take long before the motion of Arthur's hips speeds up and Merlin does his best not to rock back against his king, not to give in, because he _cannot_  enjoy this, not with Arthur asleep and unaware of what he's doing. But it's no use, especially not when Arthur presses his mouth against the warlock's neck and starts to chant his name; Merlin's self-control starts to crumble and he makes one last effort, but the way Arthur keens "Oh, fuck, Merlin" does it and he presses back, his moan muffled by biting down on his fingers when he comes, hard.

Arthur thrusts his hips one last time, slowly, before he stills, a deep sigh emitting from his chest, followed by a very satisfied hum. His grip on Merlin looses and the warlock realizes he should get out of Arthur's embrace, but he cannot bring himself to move just yet, with the blissful afterglow still rolling through his body.

Only when Arthur's snoring starts to fill the tent again does he find the strength to move. He carefully pushes Arthur back onto his own bed roll, pulling the bearskin - which slipped off of him while they were... _busy_  - over the young king's shoulders before laying down again, his back towards Arthur.

With growing dread, he realizes that Arthur can never know about this. Hell, he would never do any of this while awake; it must have been the stress from chasing after Morgana for so long.

A voice in the back of his head screams in protest, but Merlin refuses to listen, refuses to delude himself. When they get back to Camelot, they'll be Arthur and Merlin again. King and servant, friends - maybe -, but never...

His heart clenches at the thought of them being like that, but the warlock wills himself not to think of it. No use to think of it, because it was not happening.

Never.

Merlin stays awake until sunrise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We adore reviews almost as much as Arthur adores Merlin.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another M rated chapter in which we see Arthur's POV of the night before....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers. SherlockedGinger here updating. I write as Arthur in this story. I've never written smutt until this so I hope it's alright. Please let me know what you think!

**__**

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Arthur

_**

**__ **

Arthur lays on his side, staring at the blackness of the tent canvas and doing his best to ignore Merlin's soft steady breaths behind him. Luckily after only a few moments the fatigue of the day overtakes him, and he drifts off into a restless slumber...

~oOo~

Arthur watches the torch light flickering against the stone wall in his room. The soft golden glow dances in erratic patterns. But his mind is far from the firelight. He fingers are drumming on the wooden table that he sits behind, impatiently.

Nearly fifteen minutes ago he summoned Sir Lancelot to discuss the night guard rotations, and he still isn't here. Finally, after a few more moments of waiting he stands with an exasperated sigh and decides to find Lance himself.

He should summon Merlin to do the task, but Gaius has him out picking herbs in the moonlight. It gives them special powers or some nonsense. All he knows is that having to remove his own clothes and bathe himself, then redress himself has been a hassle.

He didn't realize how accustom he is to Merlin's assistance. To the feel of his firm, skilled fingers undoing the buttons on the back of his tunic, soft fingers brushing accidently against his exposed skin as the garment slid off. The sensation of Merlin's eyes admiring his muscled form as he slides into the soapy water.

He knows Merlin watches, despite his desperate attempts not to. He knows Merlin eyes him with the same interest shown by the young maidens of the castle. And he also knows, of all the admiring glances, that he enjoys Merlin's the best.

The gaze from those deep azure eyes slides against his skin like a sensual whisper of wind. He's learned the sensation of being watched in battle, or while being hunted by an enemy when he was a child. He knows the tension and shivers it sends down the spine. But  _this_  tension,  _these_ shivers are entirely different and he misses them in Merlin's absence.

He tries to put the thoughts from his mind, before he becomes unfit to wander the castle in thin breeches. He wanders the corridors, wondering if he should check the knight's quarters or the pub first. Both are equally likely, but he decides the quarters are closer and sets down a dimly lit hall.

His thoughts, still persistently occupied with Merlin, despite his efforts to control them, are thrown into the forefront of his mind when he hears the sound of muted moans from an alcove in down the corridor.

He turns quickly on his heel, wanting to get out of earshot before he hears names, and opts for the long way around to the knights' quarters. But now his mind won't stop.

_What would Merlin's moans sound like? Would he attempt to muffle them from embarrassment or be too high with pleasure to care? Would they come out like whimpering sighs or deeper sobs with Arthur's name mingled in it?_

He tries to snap his mind back to the present, realizing he's going the complete opposite direction of where he needs to be.

"Great, Merlin makes my life difficult even when he's not here." he grumbles to himself and turns around, heading back down the long hallway.

He's still muttering under his breath, as he continues down the long dimly lit hall, paying little attention to his surroundings. And he suddenly finds himself colliding with a slim figure, tripping over his legs and crashing to the floor atop them.

The figure shouts in surprise and pain when they land and then attempts to squirm from underneath him. He realizes simultaneously that the figure is Merlin and his clothes are damp.

"Arthur - get off!" Merlin grumbles, trying to shove him away and Arthur complies, rolling away from him. When he stands and Merlin climbs to his feet he realizes Merlin isn't just damp. He's completely soaked.

His dark hair is plastered to his head and his clothes are clinging to his body, leaving very little to imagination.

Trying to distract himself from the situation Arthur demands "What are doing out here at this hour Merlin? And why are you all wet." his voice is rougher than usual, his throat suddenly dry.

But if Merlin notices this he says nothing and instead gives a shrug. "I fell in the stream while I was collecting herbs and I was headed to the kitchens to dry off." he explains.

Then glancing around the corridor as if just realizing where he is he questions "What're you doing down here?" .

But Arthur doesn't answer, he didn't hear Merlin's question. Instead he's become momentarily distracted by the movement of Merlin's lips and the shadows dancing across his face. In the dim light his pupils have dilated almost fully and his ice-blue iris are now thin rings. He's still recovering his breath from their collision and his chest rises and falls faster than usual.

"Arthur?" Merlin questions, waving his hand in front of his face.

Arthur snaps from his thoughts and mumbles "Hmmm - oh. Um- just - uh - looking for Lancelot. He was supposed to meet me in my chambers."

Merlin nods, looking puzzled at Arthur's method of speech, but doesn't comment. Instead he says "Oh, well he and Gwaine got into a drinking competition and they're passed out in the pub. Do you want me to come back to your chambers with you?"

Arthur knows the question is an innocent one. Merlin is simply offering to assist him in getting ready for bed and closing up his chambers for the night. It is his job after all.

But Arthur's mind enhances it with a more carnal meaning and before he can stop himself he's grabbing Merlin by his damp shoulders and spinning him back against the wall.

"Arthur?" Merlin questions, his voice a breathless whisper. Arthur searches his face for a brief moment, but finds nothing except slight surprise and deep desire. Taking confidence in the confirmation of his suspicions, that Merlin fancies him as much as he fancies Merlin, Arthur relinquishes his iron control.

"Shut it." he growls, pressing Merlin firmly against the wall with his entire body, feeling the outline of Merlin's muscles and bony hips aligning with his own.

Arthur loosens his grip on Merlin's shoulders and runs his hands, fingers splayed over his chest and across his stomach relishing the gentle contours he can feel beneath the thin, rough fabric.

Merlin seems to be having a difficult time following Arthur's command to "shut it". He head has fallen back slightly, now supported only by the wall, and erratic gasps and whimpers escape unchecked from his mouth.

Arthur takes advantage of his vulnerable position and nibbles gently at his exposed collarbone as his hand continue their slow journey downward. Merlin's skin is warm and soft beneath his lips and Arthur doesn't think he'll ever get enough of the taste of his skin.

"Gah - A-Arth _ur_ " Merlin gasps, as Arthur grazes his skin gently with the edge of his teeth.

 _"Shhh"_ Arthur murmurs, his breath tingling Merlin's neck and sending thrills down his spine. Arthur isn't sure why he's attempting to quiet Merlin, because the soft gasps and sobs are driving him insane in the best possible way. Not that it matters, because Merlin isn't heeding his words at all.

Instead he lets out a desperate whimper as Arthur's hands finally find their resting spot on the crest of his hipbones, forcefully arching him forward for more friction. The contact shoots a jolt through Arthur and he does his best to muffle his own whimper.

He realizes Merlin's hand have moved from their place at his side, to grasping at his back, digging into his skin, causing a delightful combination of pleasure and pain.

Merlin's responsiveness urges him on and he presses his hips forward, not grinding them yet, but wanting another whimper from Merlin. For once, Merlin obliges with his wishes and gasps out another high-pitched whine.

"Ah - F-" He bites of the profanity, before it can fully escape, but the suggestion sends Arthur unto a frenzy.

He moves his attention from Merlin's neck to his head and captures the noises escaping from Merlin's mouth with his own, closing around Merlin's soft lips.

There is a brief moment of stillness as the intimacy of their actions suddenly occur to them. The softness of the kiss suggests far more than simple lust; and Arthur's grip on Merlin's hips slacken for a moment as he gently runs his fingers along the outline of the bone in something akin to a caress.

But the moment of gentleness passes when Merlin lets out a soft whine, into the kiss and Arthur tightens his grip again, pushing more firmly against Merlin's mouth.

Now Merlin leaps into action. His hand release their vice grip on Arthur's back and snake up to cup his head, one hand burying into burying into his sandy hair and pulling him closer, angling his head. He nips gently at Arthur's lips, earning him a sharp gasp. "Ah - Mer- _lin - ah_ "

Whether Merlin actually knows what he's doing, or if he's given into pure instinct Arthur isn't sure, but he finds he doesn't care as Merlin takes advantage of his gasp and dips his tongue into Arthur's mouth. He briefly slides it against Arthur's before tilting his head to allow more access and exploring the contours and ridges of his mouth.

The sensations are slowly dissolving Arthur's control and he has the sudden realization that if he doesn't take back dominance of the situation he's going to snap and spin Merlin around, taking him then and there. That really isn't an ideal situation, so he pulls back slightly, despite Merlin's firm grip, so their heads are resting nose to nose.

Merlin's pupils are blown wide with lust and Arthur suppresses a growl in the back of his throat He tightens his grips on Merlin hips and gently rolls his own against them. With a sharp gasp Merlin's grasp on his hair goes lax.

He bites his lip, trying to control the volume of his moans and his head falls onto Arthur's shoulder as Arthur rolls his hips again. A muffled whimper of "A- _Arth_ -ur" is audible despite his attempts to muffle it in Arthur's shirt.

Merlin's hot breath and moist mouth against his shoulder increase Arthur's hunger and any hope of making it back to his chambers to finish this session are dashed.

No longer able to control himself he increases the speed of his rotations and Merlin is so racked with pleasure he can do nothing but mirror Arthur's actions. He matches Arthur's pace, rutting his thin hips forcefully and he clings to Arthur's broad shoulders for support.

His grip and hips draw groans from Arthur. "Ahh - Gods, Mer -  _Merlin..._ "

The pressure builds as the friction increases, gasps and profanities filling the small space between them. Merlin's muffled by Arthur's clothing and Arthur's gasped aloud into the dark.

Whimpers and soft sobs of intense pleasure prelude their climax. Neither bother to stifle their cries when they come, with each other's names on their lips. Then all fades to black.

~oOo~

The next morning Arthur awakens with a stiff soreness in his muscles. As he tries to roll over his back protest with a sharp throb of pain. He grumbles to himself about the consequences of riding for three days straight and glances over, to see Merlin's gone.

He can see sunlight filtering through the cloth of the tent and hear the sounds of the others stirring. He hurls the covers off of him, trying to ignore the ache and fatigue shadowing his movements. It's then that he notices the stain on his breeches. He swears to himself, cursing his mind and Merlin. After all it had to be his presence in the tent that caused his dream.

He's thankful he can't remember the dream because that would definitely cause problems. But now he's even more determined to get to Camelot. He needs to speak with Gaius and figure out how to lift whatever spell Morgana has set upon him. And figure out how to do so without alerting Merlin as to what's going on.

He quickly dresses, shoving his breeches into the very bottom of his bag and donning his armor before exiting the tent.

He finds Merlin and most of the knights by the fire, eating breakfast. His eyes are drawn automatically to Merlin and he notes there are bags under his eyes and a greyish pallor to his skin. He mustn't have slept the night before.

The thought suddenly occurs to Arthur that Merlin might have heard him and he quickly averts his eye's asking "What's for breakfast, then?"

**_ Merlin _ **

Merlin does his very best not to flinch when Arthur approaches them, keeping his eyes on his bowl of… whatever it is that Gwaine thrust into his hands as soon as he sat down on the old fallen tree. To his amazement, he seems to have eaten most of his breakfast already, though he doesn't remember doing so. He has been too deep in thought to register anything.

Arthur accepts a bowl of - gruel, is it? – as well before walking around the fire and sitting down – thankfully not next to Merlin, who is sure he could not deal with that right now. The king makes a face at his breakfast, but grabs his spoon and starts to eat with a frenzy anyway. Merlin grins at that. Arthur eats like he's famished, as if he's been busy for-

He stops himself right then and there. Whatever happened last night – whether Arthur has any recollection of it or not – will never happen again.  _Must_  never happen again. The warlock scoops up another spoonful and swallows it without tasting it, his eyes still on his king. Arthur pays him no mind; he's chatting with Lancelot, grinning widely, his bowl and spoon still in his hands. He looks better than yesterday, Merlin thinks – well rested, cheerful, at ease.

Just then, Arthur suddenly looks up, his gaze catching Merlin's and the warlock flinches, focusing on his now empty bowl. He scrapes his spoon against the edges, as if he's collecting the last remains of his breakfast, feeling Arthur's gaze on him as if the king's eyes burn him. The warlock bites his lip in an attempt to appear relaxed and at ease, but the longer he avoids looking at Arthur, the more he realizes that he's only making matters worse.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" A strong hand grabs his shoulder, startling him; Percival, thank God. Merlin nods. "Fine, fine, just… tired, I guess." With that, he gets up and starts to gather the empty bowls. He hates doing dishes, but staying here, with Arthur staring at him like he does, is even worse.

~oOo~

Merlin stares at Arthur's back as the king guides them through the – now familiar – forest. They're not from Camelot now; by nightfall, they'll be there.

Although Merlin does not mind travelling with Arthur, he longs to sleep in his own bed again. To walk through familiar corridors and halls, chat with Gwen, prepare potions and solutions with Gaius. He smiles at the thought of his mentor and speeds up a little, now riding beside Arthur instead of behind him. The king does no acknowledge his presence at once, but as they ride on, Merlin notices the looks Arthur throws him every once in a while, mostly when he thinks the warlock isn't looking.

Merlin pointedly doesn't look at the king, instead focussing on the road ahead. There's something bugging him, although he is not sure what it is. He can't quite put his finger on it.

Because he's still deep in thought, Merlin only notices the overhanging branches when they hit him in the face. He lets out a noise of surprise, which catches the attention of both Arthur and the knights. The latter laugh at him, cracking jokes as they always do and Merlin finds himself smiling, despite his stinging cheek. Maybe it's nothing after all.

~oOo~

When they finally arrive back at the castle, Merlin is worn. All he wants is to retreat to his chambers, roll onto his bed and sleep for days. Arthur, however, seems to have other ideas. He barely lets Merlin out of his sight for hours, ordering him to help the knights in unpacking their saddlebags and bringing the horses to the stables. When that is done, he has Merlin accompany him to his private chambers and assist in taking off his armor.

By the time he's finished, Merlin feels dead on his feet. He can barely keep his eyes open, but Arthur has not dismissed him yet, so leaving for some well-earned rest is no option. Arthur's bed look very comfortable as well, but, tempting as it may be, rolling onto the soft pelts and pillows is out of the question as well. He can't help staring, though, longing for a soft mattress and a pillow to rest his head on, when a chough pulls him from his thoughts.

"Are you alright, Merlin?" Arthur asks. He's standing close – very close – to Merlin and the warlock asks himself how Arthur got this close to him without Merlin noticing. The king leans towards him, his brow furrowed with worry, and the warlock finds himself very, very aware of the heat radiating off Arthur's body and the effect it has on him.

Arthur makes a gesture, raising his hand as if to cup Merlin's face, but the warlock steps back quickly, uncomfortable with their closeness. "I'm fine, sire. Just tired. I'll… go and catch some sleep."

The king blinks, as if waking from a trance, before seemingly collecting himself and nodding. "You do that. Can't have you dozing off tomorrow."

Merlin gives a small smile and leaves.

~oOo~

The warlock lets out a deep sigh of relief when he finally –  _finally_  – lies down on his bed. He contemplates going to sleep just like that, but gets up anyway and removes his shoes, scarf and jacket before lying down again. No bed has ever felt this good, he decides, pulling the covers up to his chin and rolling over. Sleep drifts over him slowly and he sinks into a comfortable slumber, disturbed only occasionally by images of carriages, the sound of sword fighting and the glimmer of a sharp dagger in the dark.

Just before Merlin sinks into deeper dreams, a sudden thought comes up in his mind. He opens his eyes again, the thought of sleep gone in an instant, and sits up, staring into the dark.

Morgana had wanted to kill him, she said. But when she got the chance to do so, with Arthur being close and on the verge of finding them, she hadn't. Why hadn't she killed Merlin and grabbed her chance?

 


	7. Chapter 7

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Arthur

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**__ **

Arthur sinks onto his bed with a sigh of mingled exhaustion and relief. He’s still fully dressed and his clothes are dirtied from riding, but he doesn’t care. The sheets will be washed in the morning anyway. 

He tries to muster up the energy to change before actually sleeping, but his body won’t comply. He wishes briefly, in the midst of his tired mind, that he’d made Merlin stay long enough to help him.

The thought is quickly banished though when his dream from the night before suddenly slams into his mind, full force.

Strands of gossamer memories float in his mind. The soft sounds Merlin made when Arthur nipped at his neck. The feel of his fingers, desperately gripping Arthur’s shoulders. The softness of his lips as he brushed them against Arthur’s before delving in deeper with his tongue.

He shoves the thoughts viciously aside, trying to reassure himself. _“It was nothing! Just a dream.”_

But the very recent memory of his entirely inappropriate urge to stroke Merlin’s cheek when he’d dismissed him minutes before was enough to disprove that desperate theory.

His hand had risen to Merlin’s face of it’s own accord, bare centimeters from his porcelain skin. Luckily Merlin flinched away, snapping Arthur back to reality. 

He doesn't even know what he’s going to say to him in the morning. Probably nothing. He’ll just go on as though nothing unusual happened. As if the lingering stares and illogical action on his part where nothing out of the ordinary. Merlin probably hadn't noticed it anyway.

But the memory is still enough to make Arthur want to bang his head against the wooden headboard. However he rallies all his maturity and doesn't indulge himself.

Instead he lets his body fall back, across the bed, telling himself that he would just rest for a moment, then ready himself for bed.

His mind wanders over the past few days and he finds himself wondering how the whole thing has gone so wrong. Just a week ago they’d set out in full splendor, ready to prove to the neighboring kingdoms that Camelot was still a mighty and just land. 

Marriages would be arranged among various courts to form alliances. Treaties would've been signed and Arthur would've been officially welcomed as the new King of Camelot in the eyes of all. 

Now he lay, exhausted and befuddled with his plan in ruin. He had injured knights, ill used supplies and now these ridiculous urges to shove Merlin up against the nearest solid surface and - _No!_

He forcibly cuts his thoughts off there, sitting upright with a sudden determination. He quickly sheds his shirt, forcing his mind away from the ghostly memories of Merlin doing the same a dozen times over. 

He desperately steers his thoughts towards the future. A messenger has been sent onto Aurora but what of the other kingdoms? Would they hear of the delay as well? What would be said? Was he to be made a fool of?

If so he has no one to blame but himself. Abandoning the mission for the sake of a servant boy. 

Not even for his sake really, but for Arthur’s and the foolish unnamed fear that lingers in his peripheral. As if Merlin is something precious to be guarded and something someone might steal away from him at any moment. 

Stupid, unprecedented fears. Merlin is nothing special and no one is interested in taking him. Besides Merlin is his and no one would dare take something of the king’s.

A sudden clarity of the contents of his thoughts brings his mind to a crashing halt. _His?_

Since when does he think of Merlin as _his_? His servant certainly, to order about. To vent to and depend on. But not to be posses in this manner, with fierce dominance to own. But that’s exactly what he wants to do he realizes.

He wants Merlin to be his entirely. To posses, to absorb every inch of his being. To be upon his waking thought every morning and his yawning breath at nightfall.

He wants to know that every breath Merlin laughs is for him. That the bright grin never graces another’s presence. He wants Merlin’s voice to caress his name in a way that makes it clear to all that hear, that Merlin is his. 

With a sudden fury at the betrayal of his own mind Arthur hurls a furious kick to the legs of his table and swears as a violent pain jolts through his leg. 

He inhales deeply, trying to negate the throbbing in his foot. “Now I’m never going to sleep,” he grumbles.

Then a wonderful thought strikes him. He can go to Gaius. He can get something for the pain and ask for a sleeping tonic as well, without raising any suspicion. A full night’s rest will surely give him a clear head.

It’s not until he’s nearly at Gaius’s doors that he realizes Merlin will be inside as well. Steeling himself, and praying Merlin’s already asleep, he raises his hand and softly knocks.

**__**

**_

Merlin

_**

**__ **

Merlin is roused from his sleep by a soft, almost tentative knock on the door of his and Gaius’ quarters. Sitting up slowly, rubbing the last remains of sleep out of his eyes, he realises that it’s still dark. It must be in the middle of the night. Who would be knocking on their door now?

Gaius hasn’t woken yet, so Merlin pads over to the door, trying to stifle a yawn. If it’s nothing too serious, he might even be able to help whoever it is without having to wake Gaius. There’s more knocking and Merlin lets out a grumbled “Coming” before opening the door.

Arthur.

Merlin freezes, as does the king, and they stare at each other in silence. Hundreds of thoughts whirl through Merlin’s head, but they are all silenced when the king looks him up and down slowly before looking Merlin straight in the eye. The warlock barely gets out an “Is everything alright, Sire?” before Arthur’s gaze darkens and he pushes the door open, shoving Merlin back in the process. 

Merlin barely has time to regain his balance when Arthur grabs him by the shoulders and all but shoves him with his back against the wall, pressing his body flush against Merlin’s. The warlock lets out a yelp – both in surprise and in pain – but then the king’s mouth is on his. 

Merlin can’t move, can’t breathe, can’t _think_. He stands frozen, not responding when Arthur all but pries open his mouth and ravishes the warlock’s mouth with his tongue, his hands rubbing and squeezing Merlin’s shoulders and upper arms. Arthur is kissing him. And Merlin loves it. He loves the way Arthur’s mouth tastes, the slow and languid movements of his tongue against the roof of Merlin’s mouth, the sounds his king makes as he pressed himself closer...

The warlock gasps and puts his hands against Arthur’s chest, shoving him away. “Arthur, don’t,” he says, but the king only grins and grabs Merlin’s wrists, pinning them next to his hips before attacking Merlin’s neck and throat with his lips. “I want you, Merlin,” he growls and the warlock feels his knees go weak at those words, those words he only ever hears in his dreams and he is very tempted to close his eyes and let Arthur do whatever he wants to do to him.

But then he realizes that the Arthur he knows, who calls him an idiot and saddles him with the dullest chores he can come up with, would never touch him like this. Something is off and he tries to break out of the king’s grip, but Arthur only holds onto him tighter, grinding his hips against Merlin’s thigh. “Want you, want you, _need you_ ,” he murmurs between open-mouthed kisses against Merlin’s exposed collarbone, pausing to let his teeth scrape over the pale skin of the warlock’s shoulder. 

Merlin panics. He has to put a stop to this, whatever it is, no matter how much he enjoys the king’s ministrations. Pushing Arthur away is out of the question, as is calling for help. Which leaves…

The warlock grits his teeth, trying not to loose himself in the sensations again, and looks around in the room. His gaze lands on a small kettle Gaius uses to brew potions and tonics. _'I’m sorry Arthur.'_

He closes his eyes and calls forth his powers.

~oOo~

Gaius carefully lifts one of Arthur’s eyelids and hums. “What is it?” Merlin asks, fighting the urge to step forward and join the physician at Arthur’s bedside.

“His pupils are very dilated,” Gaius mumbles, closing Arthur’s eye again carefully and righting himself. “I suspect he’s under the influence of some spell or potion, but I can only guess at the supposed effects.” He pauses, lifting Arthur’s hand to check his fingertips. “I don’t suspect it to be poison or something lethal, but I can’t be sure.”

“But he will be alright?”

“If we can find a way to cure him, I don’t see why not,” says Gaius, gazing at the thick ropes that secure Arthur’s wrists to the bedpost. Neither of them was comfortable with the idea of restraining Arthur, but after tonight’s events, there is no way of knowing what Arthur will do when he wakes up.

~oOo~

Merlin yawns and flips another page in the large book Gaius handed him before leaving to fetch a couple of knights. The physician explained that Arthur is most likely under the influence of some strong infatuation or madness, which is why the knights must be informed. However, there are thousands of spells that could have such an effect. Finding the right one is key, but this book is so long and boring Merlin can barely keep his eyes open.

The young warlock is so engrossed by his reading that at first, he does not notice Arthur stirring. It isn’t until the king lets out a grunt that Merlin looks up, just in time to see Arthur open his eyes and look around in bewilderment.

“Arthur!” Merlin exclaims, leaping out of his chair and over to his friend’s bedside. The king blinks, as if he tries to make sense of what’s happening, but then he gazes up and their eyes meet.

“Merlin,” Arthur purrs, trying to get up but being held back by his bonds. Merlin puts a hand on the king’s shoulder, urging him back down as not to hurt himself, but it only makes Arthur thrash more violently. “Merlin, release me, please. I want to touch you.”

The warlock bites his lip. “I’m sorry, sire, but I can’t.” He gets up slowly, starting to back away. Arthur frowns at this and pulls at his bonds, clearly frustrated when they don’t budge.

“Merlin, release me right now!” When Merlin doesn’t respond, but takes another step back, the king starts to plead. “Merlin, please, don’t go. I need you Merlin. I want you. Come back, stay with me, please, please.” Arthur’s struggles become even more erratic and the frame of his bed starts to shake, but Merlin doesn’t approach him. He can’t, not when Arthur is delirious. He can barely bear the sight of him. 

What follows, however, is enough to make his breath hitch.

“Merlin, please… I love you.” The warlock freezes, looking at Arthur in disbelief, who stares right back at him. “Please, let me go,” he coos. 

Merlin can’t believe it. Arthur can’t have said that. It’s the spell talking, he reminds himself, but the way Arthur looks at him, the plea clear in his eyes… it makes Merlin’s heart yearn. 

The door opens and both Gwaine and Percival stumble into the king’s room, followed by Gaius. “What is the meaning of this?” Percival bellows, his gaze fixing on Merlin, then Arthur, “Why is the king tied to his bed?”


	8. Chapter 8

_ **Arthur** _

Arthur's mind drifts in and out of darkness. There are flashes of clarity, brief snatches of awareness in which he knows he's tied and drugged somewhere. He must escape.

Merlin, he wants to see Merlin. No, he  _needs_  to see Merlin. He needs to feel him, to map the contours of his skin with his fingers. He needs to hear his ragged breath. He has to tell him he loves him. He has to hear Merlin repeat is back.  _Merlin._ He needs Merlin.

"Mm'rln." he tries to call for him but the weight of the drugs is unrelenting. He can't give up though. The inferno burning within will consume him if he can't have Merlin's soothing touch.

"M'rlnn!" he tries again, feeling his mouth finally comply with a mumble akin to Merlin's name.

And it must've worked because suddenly he can feel warm gentle fingers on his face. They're Merlin's; of this he has no doubt. Gentle, caressing and he struggles with his bound arms to reach for him. More, he needs more than these tantalizing feather light touches.

It's to no avail though and he can hear a whisper from somewhere within his delirium that sounds like Merlin's voice. In the softest of murmurs it says "Shh... Arthur. Just calm down. Here take this, then everything will be all right."

Arthur struggles against the cool glass bottle being pressed to his lips, knowing darkness with follow it. Be he can't fight Merlin's firm, skilled delivery of the herbs and soon a bitter liquid is washing into his mouth. A blissful fall into the abyss follows and all he can hear as he fades is someone asking why he's tied to a bed. All fades to black.

**~0o0o0o0~**

Gaius starts around at the knight's entrance and waves his hand for silence. Percival clenches a fist to control himself and inquires again in a whisper "Why is the king tied down like a common prisoner?"

Gwaine casts a worried glance at Arthur's now relaxed from and catches Merlin's eye as he comes to stand by Gaius. He looks worn and years older than he had yesterday. His eyes are heavy with worry, but he tries for a weak smile when he sees Gwaine.

"The king has been driven to madness." Gaius starts and is interrupted by a loud uproar from both knights.

"How dare you speak so of your king!" Percival growls.

"Madness!? What sort of madness? He was sound yesterday. Is it an illness?" Gwaine demands, looking frantically towards Arthur the back to Merlin and Gaius.

"If you would be so kind as to be silent for a moment then I will happily explain what's going on." Gaius snaps and they all fall quiet.

Merlin glances over his shoulder to check that Arthur is still silent of the noise. He doesn't stir.

"The king appears to be under some sort of spell. It causes him to..." Gaius trails off here, casting a brief glance towards Merlin, obviously trying to decide how much he should reveal. Telling the knights that their king has been lusting after and trying to tackle a servant boy won't do.

In the end he simply says "It causes him to act out of character. He is a danger to himself and others so we had to secure him until we find a cure."

Gwaine and Percival absorb the information in silence, and then nod.

"Well, right then. Can we be of any service?" Gwaine asks after a moment of silence, looking back towards his king worriedly.

Gaius shakes his head. "I'm afraid not. Merlin and I are looking for a cure. When we find something I'll let you know... Maybe you can be of service to us then."

Percival nods and glances at Arthur, "Saying I shall inform the other knights that the king is...  _Indisposed."_  Gaius thanks Percival as he leaves.

Gwaine lingers for a few moments, reluctant to leave his king in such a state. Merlin has moved back towards Arthur and is sitting on a stool, watching him with a worried furrow of his brows.

"Well I suppose so long as Merlin's around he's okay, right?" Gwaine says with a smile, turning his gaze from the two of them back to Gaius.

Gaius looks up from the large tome he was reading and questions "What do you mean?"

Gwaine shakes his head, looking suddenly reluctant to say anything more. He fidgets with the sword hanging at his side.

"Gwaine, you already started it so you'd best finish it. What did you mean by that?" Gaius questions firmly. Does Gwaine suspect Merlin's magic? Merlin trust Gwaine as a friend, perhaps he's gotten carless around him.

Gwaine lets out a nervous laugh before saying "Well it's just, I mean all the knights have noticed how..." he trailed off, unsure of how much he should say.

"How  _fond_  he is of Merlin." he finally finishes, with an agitated shuffle of his boot.

After all it is hardly a knights' business who his king bestowed affections on. And if it happened to be upon a skinny dark-haired servant boy rather than a wholesome blond maiden, then it was to be ignored. Snickered at between the knights perhaps, but only in the quietest whispers and never to another member of the court.

Gaius spears him with a searching glance and says "Gwaine speak plainly. None of this conversation will leave the room, of that you may rest assured."

Gwaine casts a glance, to ensure he wasn't overheard by Merlin and his sleeping king then draws a deep breath before saying "Arthur often smiles at Merlin when he isn't looking. He treats him as a dear friend and trusted advisor. But the way his eyes linger on Merlin's form and the terror in his cries when we found Merlin missing aren't the sort that reflect a feeling of simple friendship."

A light of understanding dawned in Gaius' eyes. He'd long suspected that Merlin fancied Arthur and the idea that the sentiment was returned wasn't a far-fetched one.

"That's all I will say on the matter." Gwaine finishes firmly, and then departs with a friendly nod towards Merlin.

Gaius casts a curious glance at Merlin. He has an open book in his hand, but he's paying more attention to Arthur than it. His eyes trail Arthur's face with concern.

Gaius had seen the look on Merlin's face when Arthur claimed to love him. The flinch that shook his body for a brief moment and the iron strength of his mind fighting against Arthur's ravings.

But he'd also seen Arthur's face when he'd said it. There was such purity in his expression; a yearning desire for Merlin. It looked too genuine to be just a spell. A sudden thought pierced Gaius' mind and he dropped the book in his hand, in favour of one atop the shelf.

He quickly leafed through it, a half-formed memory of an ancient spell urging him onward.

_Méadaigh Céad._

The words printed in fading grey ink leaped out at him from its place on the page. That was it. Known as the Spell of Hundreds it was ancient druid magic.

By the name many assumed it was meant to clone something, perhaps develop an army or large trove of gold. But it wasn't that simple and was far more devious.

Quite simply the spell takes a single emotion and magnifies it as if it's being felt by a hundred men, towards one person. However all the emotion is felt within a single individual. In this case, it's Arthur.

He began to read the ancient prose in quiet whispers.  _"The Méadaigh Céad is a mighty spell, meant to weaken your enemy by turning their own desires against them. No weapon is so potent as that which is born of our own humanity."_  Gaius snorts in agreement, knowing that if Arthur had been allowed to continue on he would've made a colossal fool of himself and very likely lost the kingdom in his madness.

He continues reading from the yellowed pages, after all the more they know about the spell the better equipped they are to deal with it _. "Take care in choosing your victims, for the spell has two. The first must already harbor a strong passion towards the second. Whether it be a passion of hate or of love does not matter. You must take a clipping of hair or clothing from the second victim, for the magic must be directed."_  It all clicks together. The reason for Merlin's capture and convenient rescue. Morgana only needed a bit of hair from him.

He flips to the next page, hoping there will be something about how the spell might be broken. There is a fading illustration of a thick, knotted circle upon a plank of wood. Below is scrawled.  _"Carve a circle with fire upon a plan of sacred wood. Holly or oak from an ancient grove are the most powerful, but common birch may work if the caster has sufficient power._

_The circle will become the Méadaigh and will create a never ending cycle of desire. The desires will slake within the circle over and over, round and round so that the victim's urges build stronger and stronger with every passing day. Take care that the circle is never damaged, for once broken the magic of the spell will be no more."_

Gaius lets out a sigh of relief and allows himself a smile. They've found it at last. But now that he knows the answer what is he to do about it?

Merlin must destroy the circle, before Arthur is driven permanently mad by his desire. It must've been in the caravan, somewhere Arthur's would've come in contact with it. Once found it wouldn't be too difficult to break. Locating it would be the problem though.

And what is he to tell Merlin? Merlin believes Arthur's affection towards him are all rooted in the spell. He has no notion that they're genuine.

A small smile quirks the corner of Gaius' mouth when he thinks of telling Merlin. He can only imagine the shining grin it will bring forth. The relief and bright laugh when Merlin realizes that perhaps they can be more than friends as he's long hoped.

But a shadow of doubt crosses his mind. Arthur is the most bull-headed man Gaius has ever met and if he's been denying his feelings for Merlin this long who's to say it will change? After all Arthur has the convenient excuse of sorcery and it's very likely he will use it. Then Merlin would stand by, broken; knowing Arthur's feelings but also knowing he won't act on them.

No, that would be far too cruel. Better to let them both believe that the past days were all a product of the spell and best forgotten.

Perhaps he can tell Merlin about how to break the spell, while avoiding telling him how it actually works. Surely that would be the kindest way...

**~0o0o0~**

Arthur feels a sharp, white hot sensation against his eyelids. They flutter open against the pain and he realizes it's simply sunlight streaming through. The residual effect of the potent sedatives reminds him of morning after a feast. His blood pulses like a raging river through his head and his body aches all over. Though that could also be from being tied down for hours.

His mind is full of foggy memories, soft hands and a gentle voice. A sharp, tangy liquid. Merlin calming him. Wait –  _Merlin?_  Where is he? He forces his eyes open against the agonizing light.

"Merlin?" he manages to call out, trying to turn his head and look around. The quarters appear empty and he calls out louder "Merlin!"

Straining against his bonds only one thought possess his mind.  _"Merlin. I've got to find Merlin."_

"MERLIN! Please, where are you?!" he calls out again, the ropes rub painfully against his wrists and suddenly he hear footsteps.

But they aren't Merlin's. It's Gaius who finally comes into view. "Merlin!" he gasps. "Where's Merlin? What've you done with him?" he demands

Gaius raises an eyebrow. "I have done nothing with him, sire." he answers in an even tone, fetching a phial of sedative. He can't remain awake.

"No!" Arthur protests "I want to see him! I need to see him. Merlin, please, let me have him. I want him. I know he wants me to. Just release me!" he shouts, still kicking and squirming.

Gaius replies calmly "Merlin has gone sire. He's going after Morgana to force her to release the spell. Now sit still." he says, trying to pour the sedative into Arthur's mouth.

Arthur stares at him with wild fear in his eyes and shrinks away, spilling the herbs "You mad old man! How could you send him after her? He'll be killed! I must go after him! I must save him! Merlin! Merlin I'm coming -"

A sudden sharp pain echoed through his head. Through the dizzying pain he hears Gaius murmur. "Sorry, sire."

The world goes black again.

 

_ **Merlin** _

Merlin has no idea what to expect, but then again, Gaius couldn't provide him with much information anyway. All he knows is that he's supposed to find the caravan, find out where that circle is and destroy it. He pulls his cloak around him and quickens his pace. The sooner he's deep enough into the woods to use magic, the better. He wants to get this over with.

While he walks on, he tries to tell himself that it's his duty both to the kingdom and to Arthur to locate and destroy that damn circle – however he's supposed to do that anyway – but he can't find himself to care much. So instead, the warlock proceeds on telling himself that it's all for the best; he will destroy the circle, the spell will be broken, Arthur will turn back to normal and life will continue.

He smiles into the darkness, but it's a bitter smile. He knew it was too good to be true, that Arthur would never return his feelings. Besides, even if he did, Merlin would still be a servant and Arthur a king – it would end in tears. And there's the bit about Merlin's magic and Arthur not knowing and all that. No good, no good at all.

That does not mean it doesn't hurt, though. Merlin scowls and focuses on the road ahead, but the dull ache in his chest does not let itself be ignore that easily. He can't help but think of the aftermath, of returning to Camelot and telling Arthur that the spell's been destroyed, that he's safe.

Arthur will thank him, reward him maybe, before deciding that it would be best if no one ever spoke of it again and the incident would be forgotten. Merlin would be Arthur's servant, would do his laundry, polish his armor, wait on him, serve him and, occasionally, throw a jealous glance in the direction of the fair ladies the king courted.

The ache surges and turns into a sharp jabbing pain when Merlin realizes that one day, Arthur will have to choose one of said ladies to be his queen. The thought of serving not only Arthur but some beautiful, wellborn maiden as well, of having to look at everything he desires without any chance of ever achieving it-

Merlin growls into the night, as if the sound can actually chase away the pain. He focuses on the road in front of him, which proves to be a more difficult task than he imagined. Even though he's on foot, it's so dark he can barely see anything and he trips over roots, rocks or bumps in the road more than once.

Finally, he turns around to find that he can't even see the towers of Arthur's castle anymore and he allows himself some slack. With a quick movement of his hand and a whispered "Leohtbora,"

The young warlock summons a small orb of light, enough to light up the path in front of him, yet small enough to go unseen from a distance. "Guide me to what I'm looking for," he commands.

The light hovers in front of him for a moment, before darting off to the right and Merlin hurries after it.

He walks all night. His legs ache, his eyes itch with sleepiness and his stomach growls angrily at him, but he forces himself to keep on walking – although he does summon a thick slice of bread from his backpack to munch on.

As the sun rises slowly, making the magical light unnecessary, Merlin marches on, until he finally has to admit he can't go another yard without some sort of rest and he slumps against the nearest tree-stump. He'll only close his eyes for a moment, really, just a moment-

**~oOo~**

Merlin has no idea how much time has passed when he jerks awake, but the sun has risen and he swears under his breath as he leaps onto his feet. It's been hours, no doubt, and those hours must have taken its' toll on Arthur and whatever is left of his mind.

The warlock adjusts the straps of his rucksack, still angry with himself for being so careless. Arthur is counting on him – well, if Arthur were in his right mind, he would count on Merlin – to destroy that damn circle; sleeping is not an option until that has happened.

He set a quick pace this time, so fast he's almost running, and his sides start to hurt, but he wills himself on, pushing all thoughts aside until the only thing he can think of is putting one foot in front of the other.

This time, however, he is in luck. After a couple of miles, he spots smoke spiraling up from between the trees. The warlock has to remind himself of the fact that if he has found the caravan, he should not make himself be known. Running towards the place is not an option.

So he makes his way towards the caravan slowly, hiding behind trees and bushes, until he is close enough to observe his target. A quick scan of the convoy confirms his suspicions that, indeed, it is the one he's looking for. Now for how to destroy the circle.

Merlin bites his lip and surveys his options. He could, of course, set the whole convoy on fire and hope it would be enough. However, he has no idea of the involvement of the owners; they may be tricked or threatened and Merlin wishes no part in their (possible) suffering. Besides, the fire might be put out before it could distort the spell properly and he cannot risk that chance.

He contemplates trying to sneak into the right carriage unnoticed, but realizes he stands no chance. He's rubbish at sneaking, the many failed attempts at hunting with Arthur being proof of that. Besides, even if he manages to sneak into the carriage, he would never get out of it unnoticed.

A distraction then. The warlock surveys the campsite again, spotting as many as four tall, bulky men, sitting at their fire or strolling between their carriages. They're all carrying swords, but not swords like the ones in Arthur's weaponry. These swords are damaged, with small chips missing and stained with— On second thought, Merlin doesn't want to come into close contact with those swords and find out.

The warlock allows himself some more time to decide before nodding to himself and lifting his hand. A soft whisper carries his power across the campsite, unnoticed by the men, until it reaches its' destination. No sound is made as the rope tied between the horses is cut and it slips onto the ground, freeing the animals without their masters noticing.

And then there's a shout and the horses are running, followed by the men who yell profanities and threats at the escaping animals. Merlin grins to himself as he watches the horses run away – followed by their masters –, before getting up slowly and making his way towards the carriages.

There's three of them, all identical, save for some cracks in the wood or stains on the wheels, and Merlin quickly opens the door of the first one. As soon as he steps inside, he feels there's nothing in here. There's not even the faintest trace of magic, no glowing, no vibration, nothing.

The same goes for the second car and he passes it quickly, but when he opens the door of the third and last carriage, the warlock is nearly blown off his feet. The magic – the feel of magic – is so strong he can't believe he missed it the first time. He hops inside quickly, looking around for a circle of symbols, trying to recall what Gaius said it would be like.

And then he glances at the doorway. And he sees it.

The circle is glowing softly, a greenish blue he has never seen before, and it seems to pulse gently, like a heartbeat. The symbols are carved into the wood around the doorway – the perfect way to make Arthur step through it and activate the spell without him noticing.

Merlin licks his lips and approaches the circle. Up close, he sees that the symbols are moving, spinning around the doorway slowly but steadily.

The warlock is entranced. Not only does the circle look beautiful, the energy and power radiating off of it render him unable to move, unable to think, until he remembers what he's here for and shakes it off. He takes off his backpack and opens it.

Before he left, Gaius gave Merlin a small satchel and very clear instruction on how to break the circle. It should be easy, child's play, save for one detail – it takes time, something of which Merlin is not sure. He'll have to hurry.

He grabs hold of the satchel and stands up, ready to break the spell and free Arthur.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Reviews and (constructive) feedback are very much appreciated! We really want to improve our writing, so if you see something, please let us know.


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